


i ride off alone (help me hold on to you)

by keepurselfalive



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Friendship/Love, M/M, Maycury Week, Uncertainty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 07:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepurselfalive/pseuds/keepurselfalive
Summary: He wondered when they had started fighting like adults instead of bickering like kids.





	i ride off alone (help me hold on to you)

**Author's Note:**

> movie!maycury (with some very minor rl details thrown in), but with a canon divergence where freddie doesn't leave for munich immediately and cut off/lose contact with the others after he announces he's got a solo deal. 
> 
> prompt: “it’s breaking my heart to see you like this”

When Brian got home, cradling groceries in two bags, Freddie was sitting on his front step. He rose as Brian came towards him, juggling the bags to get at his keys.

"Hey," Freddie said.

"Hi," said Brian back to him, cautiously because he still hadn't figured out a path through conversations with Freddie that didn't hurt, didn't make his chest tight and his throat close.

Freddie looked away. "Can I come in?" he said, and the fact that he had to ask, that it would have been strange if he'd just assumed, made Brian close his eyes against the ache in his throat. He shrugged and unlocked the door.

Brian toed his shoes off and walked straight to the kitchen, dumping his groceries on the counter and starting to put them away while Freddie stood in the doorway and watched him with wide innocent eyes. Brian rolled his eyes and tried not to bang his cabinets open, because they were whitewashed wood, and the handles left marks and dents if he didn't open them carefully.

Freddie was anything but innocent. Recently, Brian might have been feeling as though he didn't know much, but that much he did know.

"I came to apologize, darling,” Freddie said.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Brian said, and slammed the pantry door shut.

Freddie might have winced, but Brian had his back turned and didn't see. He pretended that Freddie did, though, because it gave him some vague sense of righteous satisfaction. "For breaking up the band, for the things I said..." Freddie said.

"You didn't break up the band," he replied carefully ignoring the second-half of the apology because he could barely stand to think of the words they'd all thrown around, let alone talk about them. Brian spilled all the fruit out of the bowl on the counter and started filling it back up again, just to have something to do with his hands other than clench them at his sides, just to have something to look at other than Freddie.

"Feels a little like I did," said Freddie.

Brian knocked over the bowl and righted it again, smashing it down on the counter. "What do you want me to say, Freddie?" he asked, and bit his lip before he said anything else he'd regret.

Freddie didn't say anything, didn't move for a long time. Brian stood still, his back to Freddie, and listened to the buzzing in his ears. He wondered when they had started fighting like adults instead of bickering like kids.

Freddie's voice, when he did speak, was small, and Brian knew he'd be fiddling with his sleeves. "Maybe... that you forgive me?"

Brian sighed. "There's nothing to forgive," he said, quietly. And then, "It’s breaking my heart to see you like this,” and he wished he hadn't spoken.

He pictured Freddie biting his lip, looking down. "I know," said Freddie. "I still love you, you know. And you're still my best friend."

Brian exhaled forcefully, angry and worn out and empty. "Tell me that like you believe it. Tell me that like _I_ believe it."

Freddie didn't say anything for a while, and Brian massaged his eyes with his thumb and index finger, trying not to cry at Freddie's silence.

"Remember before _Hot Space_, but after it felt like John had always been with us, when things felt like a dream even when they weren't perfect, because we had each other?" Freddie asked eventually. "I haven't felt like that for a while." He paused. "I don't think you have, either."

Brian said nothing.

And despite the fact that Freddie was the one to confess feeling that way, he was still upset by Brian’s own lack of denial, which was so_ Freddie_ it hurt Brian to think about. “I thought you were in love with me. I thought you still are."

Brian knew that Freddie was being an arsehole, but he knew that Freddie knew it, too. He sighed and felt his shoulders slump. "I'm in love with you at twenty-seven. I don't even know who you are anymore."

He knew he had hurt Freddie, but it was true. He wouldn't have said it if it wasn't. He wouldn't hurt Freddie just for the sake of it. Too many people had done that already.

"I miss you, Bri,” Freddie said. His voice broke.

Brian turned around then, because he couldn't not. Because he still loved Freddie, and even if most of the time it felt like he loved who Freddie used to be, he still loved who Freddie was now. Because he couldn't not. Loving Freddie had been hardwired into him, probably from that first moment hearing his voice in the parking lot. He doesn't think he's ever loved anyone the way he loves Freddie, doesn't think he even could. 

Freddie stepped forward and buried his face in Brian's shoulder, and Brian wrapped his arms around him, remembering when Freddie’s hair was long, when they used to paint each other’s nails, and when they would drink cocoa cuddled together in the winter, too poor to afford heating. He swallowed around something large and difficult in his throat. "I just want you to be happy again," he said, and thought he heard Freddie stifle a sob.

"I want to be happy," Freddie said, and hung on.

"How do you feel now?" Brian asked.

Freddie hesitated, his voice muffled against Brian's shirt. "You know how it feels, at the end of summer?" he asked. Brian nodded. "Like that."

There was nothing Brian could say that wasn't pointless, nothing that hadn't been said so many times that it didn't matter anymore.

"It always mattered," Freddie said quietly, and Brian realized he'd spoken out loud. Freddie stepped back, brushing his eyes against his own shoulder. "I should probably get going," he said.

Brian felt a sudden sense of loss. "You –" He didn't know how to ask anymore. He didn't know what was allowed. But then Freddie looked at him with something like hope, and, "You could stay," he said.

Freddie didn't smile, but he didn't _not_ smile, either, almost as if he was afraid to. As if maybe he didn't know what was allowed, either. "I could," he said carefully, and it sounded like his throat ached. But Brian's did, too, so he couldn't judge.

Freddie didn't ask again whether he was forgiven, and Brian was glad, because he didn't know.

They watched telly, shows they used to watch when they were just kids who played instruments sometimes. Brian didn't what he was, now. He always used to define himself by Freddie. And now that he didn't know who Freddie was anymore, he didn't know who he was, either.

Freddie fell asleep some hours later, and Brian didn't have the heart to wake him.

"I forgive you," he tried, in a whisper, but it felt like a lie.

"I love you," he said instead, and that, at least, felt true. Felt like it always would be.


End file.
